"He didn't tell me—he said be ready in an hour, he didn't say flower—HE'S TAKING ME TO THE FIELD?"
"That's the rumor."
"Why didn't he just SAY that? Why is it a riddle? Why do I have to hear it from you?"
"Because he's Keer."
"Rrrrgh." I shake both fists at the ceiling.
"That was almost a growl."
"It was a HUMAN sound."
"Mm-hm."
I'm already moving. Baskets. I need baskets—at least three, four if it's a big field. Knife for cutting stems., gloves—where are the baskets?
"Just the two of you? Alone?"
"I guess? I have absolutely no idea. Keer really likes being the mysterious type."
"Mysterious?"
"Mhm"
"Mel."
"Don'tMelme."
"So it was the mystery that got you last time?"
"That was—" My voice goes higher. "A one-time—adrenaline. Post-fight. Chemical response. Very well-documented. In science."
"Which science?"
"The—shut up."
Kestria laughs, bright and warm and completely without mercy. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, gentle enough that I want to bite her hand. "You love me. Try not tofall off his back."
"Ha, yeah I—wait, what?"
But she's gone, and I'm standing with three baskets and a very bad feeling about what that means.
The answer is worse than I imagined.
Keer is waiting at the tree line. My baskets are strapped across my back because I couldn't figure out how else to carry them, and I look ridiculous, and he looks at the baskets, looks at me, says nothing.
"I brought supplies." Unnecessarily.
Oh god, the animals. Did I tell Dara about the evening feed? The male chews the fence if he's bored and he's always bored—and Keer Jr. needs locking up before dark or he goes after anyone who walks past the coop, talons first, no warning. And the spotted female kicks during milking if you approach from the left, always the right, I told Henna but did Henna tell—
"It's faster if I shift."
"If you—"
"You'll ride."
Him. His back. Between my thighs. For hours.
